


The fighter

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Cigarettes, Death, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gangsters, M/M, Mental Instability, its an original work, powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 09:54:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4096531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is always changing, a fighter once caged is now sort of free, the world is not the right place but no one can or could stop him</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. creative process

**Author's Note:**

> sorry, i have some lexic problems since english is not my first language

**Sky’s POV:**

The morning was cold, as usual from the early hours of a regular day around the ending of November, I’m waiting in the living room, finishing a drawing I should had done weeks ago, I want to make the effort of putting originality and passion in it, but it is difficult once you are doing it because is an assignment, it is difficult to force the creativity when you don’t want to be drawing in that exact moment, it doesn’t help the fact that the theme of the drawing is sort of uncomfortable for me.

Family. I must draw a picture of anything surrounding family, it is a complex theme and I’m sure the dickhead that pick it was expecting dark and terrifying abstract picture, no one is happy with their family, most people always complain about theirs.

My problem with the theme is that I don’t really know what to draw, I drew a picture of me and my “brother” (more like the teenager that move lots of papers to “adopt” me when I was 11) in the beach, I wanted to make the more colorfully and nice picture I could, but every time I see the drawing I feel a heavy emotion sinking in my chest.

Michael is a nice person, he helped me when I didn’t had no one, we knew each other in a trip he made to the Russian frontier when he was 15, I was 11 and I stupidly tried to steal his wallet, after a kick in the nose and a trip to a doctor he felt bad for me and move lots of influences to sort of adopt me as his sibling; he didn’t had too, but apparently he was not only weird but also really lonely, he did it because (in his words) he knew how it felt to be alone against the world, at first I thought it was creepy, I felt unsafe and I tried to run away multiple times, but I always got in troubles with the law, and he always paid my way out.

After a couple of years I realize he was telling me the truth, he never force to do anything, he never force me to call him anything (I even put awful nicknames on him), he was just being kind and trying to help me out, to be honest I didn’t wanted to have anything with him, but as the time passed I started trusting him, and we start talking and knowing each other, we were good friends, the best of friends actually.

Now we act like if we were brothers, it took a lot of time but I actually admire him, he has been the role model that I never had in my life, and that’s why I try to drew this picture as good as I can; but I feel conflicted, since Michael is not really my family.

In the meaning of the word yes he is, but in the literal meaning my family used to be a drunk man that always hit me when he ran out of booze, I remember my dad really vividly, I remember his smell, always stinking because of the bottles of scotch he bought (since he didn’t like vodka), I remember his big strong hands that held the belt he used to hit me when he felt like it, I remember the house I grew up in, a good for nothing pit of despair that was about to fall upon us at any second, but I mostly remember the man that cried all nights because he lost the love of his life, I remember the man that didn’t knew how to raise a kid and started drinking as soon as a problem appeared, I remember the man that always apologize after hurting me, I remember the father that teach me how to play the piano, the man that worked until late in the night to bring food, the man that was sinking in his own despair, and I just can’t blame him.

I want to do that, I want to blame him for all the problems I went through, but I just can’t, even when I remember the time he hit my head against a table, causing me to loose half my teeth (luckily I was 5 and a new set grew up after those), even then I can’t blame him, I felt pity for him, I felt that he was just a good man in a difficult situation.

The drawing I’m doing describes what family feels like for me, family feels like it should be a brother that is there for you, a brother that would move earth back and forth just to help you out, a brother that is there to help you when you are at your lowest; but then I just can’t stop thinking that I’m lying, because in reality my family is a man that was in a dark pit of emotions, in reality I don’t even know what family is, sure Mike is always kind and understanding, but he doesn’t replace or fills the whole that my parents left.

At the end I just look at the drawing and tear it apart, who am I kidding?, I can’t make this assignment, so I will probably failed the class and start over again the next year, anything to avoid this conflictive feelings I have in my chest.

Then the door opens, letting the cold breeze enter the room, why do I always draw in the living room?, from the door appears a tall figure, his color gives me warm and his expression gives me the chills, he haves a black eye and a troubled look on his face.

“Good morning” I just say “Mike is not in the house”

He just laughs a little, takes a cigarette out of his pocket and starts smoking, well needless to say that was rude

“I’m here to give you a ride to school ya’ know?” he says “Your brother is not coming back until the afternoon” he finish one cigar really quick, then takes another and finish it more quickly, so I’m guessing he is nervous

“I can take the bus, thanks a lot” I answer, getting up and stretching, I don’t really want to go to class “so you’re dismissed” I tell him, my hands are really fast at making a gesture to the door

“Is that yours?” he ask me, pointing to the teared drawing in the floor “I just can’t understand you people, I saw you working on that drawing for a week or so and you just fucking destroy it, doesn’t that bother you at all?”

“No” I lie to him “and even if it did bother me why would I tell you about it?” I say, he frowns a little so I guess I sounded rude for a moment

“Ok, I know I know, you don’t want to talk with me, it’s alright” he says and puts another cigar on his mouth “I will go then, have a nice day at school” he says a little forced smile on his face

“yeah whatever” I say, then I just go upstairs to change clothes, the stairs are made from wood and I just slide a little on the floor since I’m wearing socks, I hear the door closing so I know I’m alone again, maybe I was a little harsh on him but I don’t really know the guy and to be honest I had hear too many rumors to be blind about him.

The hall is dim and my room is at the end of it, multiple art pieces surround me, I bought all of them since Mike doesn’t really care about decoration, I like most of the pictures, the majority of them are from friends that put them on sale in the web, most of them have drawings of pop culture, but I just like them enough to put them in view of anyone that comes to my place

I enter my room and breath in relief, then I just change clothes to something more winter like, I walk to the bathroom and clean my face, then I take a look to the mirror, my skin is pale and I have freckles all over it, my hair is greasy since I didn’t took a shower yesterday, so I just pick the bottle of shampoo and spray the liquid in my hair, I can fast clean it in the sink so I have that working for me.

After doing so I just stare at the mirror for some time, I’m the living image of my father, just a little bit thinner, the reflection is not helping me in this conflict I have.

I walk down the stairs and just pick a bag with some stuff, I will skip classes, I take the keys of the house form a bowl at the entrance, then I just walk out the door to realize that he is standing right in front of my house.

“Oh… sorry, I’m going in a minute” he tells me, I just glare at him

I see how he walks to a decently sort of new vehicle, he just drives away while I see him, maybe I have a problem with him, but I don’t like acting like a jerk


	2. cigarette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the air is not entering his lungs, he craves oxigen but cant have it

**Ryan’s POV:**

I drive to the safe house, what am I supposed to say?, Sky didn’t want me to take him to school apparently, he is a year younger than me and I guess it’s sort of weird that a dude drives you to community college.

The problem is that I had to do it because his brother told me, I mean, what the heck should I allege?

_‘hey sky I don’t give two fucks if you want to come or not, your brother gave me an order so put your spoiled ass in the truck?, nahh, if he didn’t want to go to school then fine, it’s not my problem’_  I think to myself  _‘the problem is that IT WAS YOUR PROBLEM’_  I hear a voice say

It’s true, now I need to make an excuse, Michael O’Malley isn’t the sort of guy I want to mess with, he isn’t scary like my uncle, or my Grandfather, but he isn’t sort of nice either, I have been working for him for like two months and to be honest I don’t even know how to treat him like.

_‘You are scared of a little man’_  I hear another one, I am scared of Mr. O’Malley, he is tiny but he hit me one time and I just don’t feel like being mistreated because his little bro didn’t like me, it was just not fair

_‘what if you lie’_  that would be a solution, but if he finds out I lied then it’s going to be worse, Mr. O’Malley isn’t the sort of bad person I’m used too, he can be “nice” when he wants but most of the time he is yelling and cursing  _‘he only hit you once’_  that’s true, only one time, that’s actually better than most of the time.

I get to the safe house and once I’m there I feel my heart racing, I just can’t catch a break, can I?; I walk to the inside where he is sitting and writing, he is waiting

“So how did it went with my brother?” he asks and I just fix the cap I’m using

“He…uh… he” I’m too nervous, I can’t, I can’t I can’t and I will not “he… he didn’t….”

“He didn’t wanted to go with you, right?” he says without taking the eyes away from his papers “I sort of knew he would act like that”

“Why is that?” I ask him, now he is looking at me directly, I just dodge his sight

“Still nervous, am I right?” he asks “you know that time I “hit” you was an accident, I sort of trip over and unfortunately I sort of land you a punch, so you don’t really have an excuse to be this nervous” He says it was an accident, I say that I’m used to it, no hit is never an accident, he takes deep breaths and just walks around his office, I just sort of become tinnier and tinnier as he moves “this is why” he points my entire body

“I don’t understand” is this figuratively?, is this a joke?, I don’t understand what he means

“Because you give some sort of dangerous scent, if you’re not talking with me you become sort of aggressive and rude, but the moment I say a word you become a scary puppy that is about to pee on the carpet” he looks at me “a scary puppy that smokes apparently, how many did you hit today?”

“An entire package…” I answer still dodging his sight, but now he is in front of me and looking me straight at the eye

“Sure this isn’t going to make you sick?” he sees me, an interrogative look, I just shake my head some little “care explaining me why are you still scared?”

Again I just shake my head a little bit, he sighs and walks back to his desk, there he just plays with his pen for some time, moving it between his fingers

“I used to dream about being a musician when I was young” the pen is swinging between his fingers and a little mischief appears on his face “my biggest dream was playing in front of millions, just being there, being the one that everyone loves, the one that everyone looks up to” his smile is like a fire when the night treat to take my fingers away “but my father told me that I was being immature, that dreams where for people that didn’t had a chance in this life, apparently dreams just existed so people doesn’t go crazy thinking about their own life, or at least that was my father’s philosophy”

“Uh… and… what does that mean then?” I ask

“Well… I was a kid when he told me that… now I’m in the middle of my twenties, with all the money I could wish for and a reputation nobody wants” he sighed and the fabric of the chair just sink around his body “I never gave up that dream….” His eyes are dark, the room is getting smaller with every second “want to know how my father make me forget about that dream?” he is looking at me

“He…. He locked you in the dark room for a week?” he laughs, I don’t find my answer funny at all

“Jesus Christ, my father was awful but not that much” his steps where completely silent, between a second he was next to me, I just shrink, his hand is heavy and I don’t appreciate that he puts it in my shoulder “I had an “accident” when I was a kid, I broke my wrist and well… with that my dream was gone”

“So… it was fate?” the pressure in my shoulder increases

“Not really… but I thought the same for a long time” he said “but when I realize that it was probably my father’s fault then I notice that I was being played, he needed me to be his successor and for that he needed to have my total focus in the business, in other words I was just being used… do you feel used?” he walk back to his sit, his face appeared more sad than angry, is he… is he feeling sad because of me?

“No” that at least is clear for me “I guess I’m not being used”

“The problem is that everyone is using you Ryan, and you let them” he says directly “but if you don’t feel like that I guess it doesn’t matter if I say so”

“You’re not using me” my throat gets dry “I’m here because of what I do, you never once lied to me and I don’t think I’m being used”

“I have never lied to you because it would be useless… why would you care if what I do is wrong?, what you do is the real sin in here” he glares at me, I must had talk too much

_‘kill him’_  I just shrink in my place, all this questions and stories are out of my comfort zone, why would he tell me a part of his life  _‘just put a knife through his neck’_ , I just didn’t wanted to lie about his brother, how did I got into all this?

“get up” his hand is in front of me, I feel so little, I can’t get air “you’re hyperventilating, so get up, let’s get you some fresh air” he helps me stand, I don’t know how that happened, I just can’t breathe normally

I walk out of the office and try to breathe as much as I can, he pulls out a cigarette and lights it on, I don’t even question myself and take it away from him, the taste of the smoke in my mouth always help but right now it’s just suffocating me

“Give me that” he takes the cigarette away from me and I cough as hard as I can “you’re having a panic attack, smoking will not help you if you can’t breathe well”

_‘kill him now’_  I’m trying to breath  _‘have you heard about that guy, he couldn’t even stop a panic attack?’_  I’m trying as hard as I can to get air  _‘so useless’_

“Hey, just breath with me” he starts breathing really slowly and I try to do the same, his respiration is too slow, I’m going to asphyxiate if he doesn’t go quicker

“Breath slowly you dumbfuck” he yells, I try to do it as slow as I can  _‘you surely are a disgrace’_

After some minutes I get a hold of myself, but my body is tired for some fucking reason, he offered me to come inside as soon as I got better, the offering of a chair later and now I’m just putting my head in front of his desk, what a piece of shit am I.

“Numbers after numbers, I’m no genius when it comes to this but I can figure out that I got richer by the minute” he says, I’m just trying to not move, the exhaustion is beyond real

What a fucking horrible day, first the thing with the little jerk, then the chat with him, now I’m laying my head against Mr. O’Malley’s desk, I just wanted to kill some people and go to sleep

“damn man, I don’t even know how to get a normal conversation with you, if I talk about TV or sports or whatever the fuck normal people talk about you just shut down like this” the emotions in that phrase are too difficult to figure out “the only times I see you act as a sort of functional person is when I give you works”

“I’m good at what I do, it’s easy and I just don’t need to chat this much” I say too quiet, hopefully he didn’t pay me attention

“He is a killing machine they told me” why he can’t just be quiet for a minute? “He is the definitive assassin, no one would dare touching you if he is your bodyguard they said” the sound of the papers moving is probably the only thing that I really care for “I will be damn, they were right, because you can’t do anything else for shit”

“It’s a good thing, I’m efficient, no chats just action” I answer, the papers smash against the table and I just flinch  _‘what a pain in the ass’_

“you’re right about that, but I’m not comfortable with a hitman that is more a gun than a person” he replies, I don’t have to look at him to know that his veins are about to pop out “look, I don’t mean to cause an emotional twist of fucks with my conversations, I just like to talk with people, and honestly I doubt this is working for any of us… maybe I should just let you go back”

I freeze, that is the worst set of words that could exist in this planet, I just swallow my saliva, it’s not my decision what happens with me, but I prefer to hear Mr. O’Malley’s stories than going back

“You’re dismissed for the day” his last words

I just walk out of the office and sit next to the door, dismissed?, what does that even mean?, my only job is to do whatever he orders me, and if being dismissed is an order then what in the name of flying fucks am I left with?

I don’t have the brains neither the force to keep questioning all this, I just sit outside and take another cigarette to my mouth


End file.
